


Discreet points

by ZHIREM



Series: A moral spectrum [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: M/M, No Beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZHIREM/pseuds/ZHIREM
Summary: Would the function of memories be continuous or discrete?





	Discreet points

It was actually one of the hardest things he had ever done, voluntarily sinking down into the broken remnants of Hydras programming. Letting it wash over his mind for even a second. Feeling parts of himself disintegrate, if only for a short time, after he had fought so hard to cobble together some form of coherent personality. 

It worked though, and what is efficient and works will always trump all other contingency planning. 

He woke in a Hydra facility in the middle of mission prep, he had a target and the limited information that they had given him. It was easy, in and out assassination of a businessman that didn't want to keep up the end of his bargains. It wouldn't even take him the allotted three days. Plenty of time to track down some leverage to use to do some bargaining of his own. 

He watched the Hydra agents go about their business, they all felt so secure in the middle of their base. They would learn better, well some of them would. 

James allowed himself to fall back under the programming, hopefully when he next woke up he would be done with Hydras' mission and he could work on his own.

Elsie paused in her typing to answer her cell, "Carson here."

"The asset has left on the first mission you assigned Director, he should be contacting us in three days."

"Good, keep me informed of all communications, and start prep for the second listed mission," Carson replied before hanging up her phone and continuing to type up her report.

\------------------------------------------————--------------------------------------------------------------

James stares at the mess of a person on the floor. It always amazes him how truly breakable living creatures are, how they just seem to unravel in his hands. 

He walks over to the wall that contains a concealed safe and punches through it. No reason to be concerned about noise, the nearest neighbor is over five miles away. James collects the files Elsie sent him for before moving through the rest of the house looking for any other relevant items.

It amuses him, the house doesn't feel any different, nothing to say this is the house of a dead man. He wonders how long it will take for the house to get that hollow, disused feel. Will that happen at all, or will it be sold to a new owner too quickly to get they empty feeling? Will the murder lower the price? If so how much?

James examines all the photos on the shelves, all the paintings on walls. He wonders through all the closets, imagines the dead man in all the suits, polo's, slacks and jeans. There are boxes of comics and fantasy books in the guest bedroom closet. Were they his? Were they the belongings of a common guest? James finds a ticket stub for Disneyland in one of the books. Was it used as a bookmark? Who did he go with? 

In his walk through the house James shuffles through the detritus of a life lived, a collection of little treasures that only hold value for the memories they represent. Would anyone else value them? Will anyone else remember the importance of these token snapshots?

James is forced to admit that he doesn't have this to the level of others, maybe he did once. In his old house, in Brooklyn. There was once a lead soldier that he hid in a cubby notch under his bed. There was also a baseball ticket stub that he kept under his mattress, but even back then there wasn't much. 

The rooms at Stark tower are sleek, modern, barren. He has no pictures of Brock, or no pictures that he took for display. There are pictures, in a file, on a drive, in his arm, of Brock during training, during mission reports. Nothing personal. 

In a safe house, in Peru, James has a knife that he used to skin part of Brock's left big toe. The knife has seen James through 23 missions, it didn't mean anything until he used it on Brock. In a storage unit, in Arizona, there's the first gun Brock turned on James. Shot him five times, once for each limb, and once in the chest. James likes to make Brock lick it every so often. 

When James searches the master bathroom he finds a velvet ring box in the top middle drawer. The ring inside is old, tarnished. Was it his mothers? Was he going to give it to the women he decided to marry? Next to it is another velvet box, it holds a pearl set and an old picture of a women in her Sunday best. Grandmother? 

James keeps riffling through belongings until he comes across a set of cufflinks. He flips out his knife and pops off the onyx stones. Inside are the two micro chips he had been looking for, he quickly places the chips in the case Elsie had given him for their transport. 

James then makes his way to the office and detaches the hard drive, placing it into his bag. He spends time flipping through the files in the cabinets and desk drawers, taking the Interesting ones. Some he'll give to Elsie some he won't. 

There is a lover, that wasn't in the briefing. There isn't much evidence, but it's there, different hairs on the brush but the different hairs are all the same color. A cup on a dresser on the wrong side of the bed, two depressions on the bed. A set of female underwear buried in with the mans laundry. A single drawer in the main dresser that is mostly empty. Place to put clothes when having a night over? 

James will find her, most likely kill her. This will extend the time before he needs to return to Elsie...more time to find more leverage so that he can get what he needs from Hydra. Two nights and a day to locate the lover, a day to hack the computer and access the information on the chips, if he is lucky the information will be worth a trade, if not well he has more time to locate something more... _valuable._

Elsie Carson...the agents and techs thought he was insensible, sunk fully under their reprogramming when they were talking to each other, treating James like a piece of furniture. 

Well, Mrs. Carson, it looks I now have an excuse to spend time locating those two _darling children_ your agents were talking about.


End file.
